


i say i'll jump, i never do

by stylinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and larry if you squint, there's also zerrie friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsons/pseuds/stylinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“his hair is disheveled and his face is twisted in pain and it’s too rough, too much pressure, and zayn feels sick for what seems like the tenth time since he left the building a few minutes prior. he calls out to liam, pushing and shoving and seeking but the wall of people between them is too thick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i say i'll jump, i never do

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr a month or so ago.

It’s late by the time they finally leave the Jingle Bell Ball, and it’s enough to make Zayn think that maybe, if they’re really as lucky as they’ve been feeling lately, they won’t be mobbed by paparazzi and crazed fans dying to get a blurry picture of the tops of their heads. It’s a ridiculous thought and he knows better than to think it, but they’re all exhausted and is it too much to ask for just one night of solitude? One night where they aren’t pushed in every direction and tossed into separate vans like rag dolls? 

He can hear them before he even exits the building, the hair at the nape of his neck standing upright because tonight is just too much. He hasn’t had a cigarette in hours, and it’s making him even more antsy than usual. See, Zayn has always been known to have a bit of a temper, and his shaking hands ball into fists on their own accord as he steps out into the cool December air. His ears are ringing and he’s jerked to the side by one of their many bodyguards and it’s then that he hears it. The shouting of their names and the fans singing their lyrics and it only takes him a second or two to realize just how _wrong_ all of it sounds.

It’s not their names that are being chanted and it’s not their lyrics. He vaguely recognizes the song as ‘Glad You Came’ and his stomach lurches because he knows what this is about and he knows that it’s his fault. If this was a normal night the guys would sit around on one of their hotel beds and laugh about how many girls flashed them and how many bins they had to avoid, but it wasn’t a normal night. They weren’t being praised. They were being harassed.

Zayn’s eyes desperately search for anyone that he knows; not because he’s afraid or because he can’t handle this on his own, but because he’s worried about the others. Deep down he knows that Louis and Harry are probably taking care of each other and that Niall is still inside scrounging up the last of the donuts left out for them, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s really looking for Liam until he actually catches a glimpse of him.

His hair is disheveled and his face is twisted in what Zayn is pretty sure is pain, his assumption becoming crystal clear when he sees the hand wrapped tightly around Liam’s forearm. It’s too rough, too much pressure, and Zayn feels sick for what seems like the tenth time since he left the building a few minutes prior. He calls out to Liam, pushing and shoving and seeking but the wall of people between them is too thick. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Zayn growls, because he’s pissed off and his need to protect Liam is overshadowing the fact that anyone could take a picture of him in his rage. He tries to go a different way, watching as one of the fans tugs Harry by the hair resulting in a middle finger from Louis, and he’s almost angry at the two of them because it’s not fair that they get to shelter each other while Zayn can’t even see Liam.

He finally catches a glance at the other boy as the crowd begins to separate, and the tears rimming the deep brown orbs are enough to send him over the edge that he’s been barely balancing on for hours. He manages to push past one of the bodyguards and he’s so close to Liam that he can smell his cologne, and then he’s being dragged away again and when he finally snaps, he finds his fist colliding with the side of the van he’s being carelessly hurled into.

————-

Zayn and Liam have always shared a room, regardless of the fact that sometimes it’s a single and they have to share a bed, too. Sometimes, when his heart is really hurting and he wants to feel even worse about their situation, he’ll pretend that it’s only because Louis and Harry always share and Niall snores much too loudly for anyone to actually sleep with. But really, that’s not the case. Before there was “Larry” there was “Ziam,” and Zayn figures he’s the only one that’s really noticed it.

He’s not surprised when Liam enters the room a few beats after him, bags under his eyes and one hand wrapped around his forearm. Zayn can tell something’s wrong before the other boy says a word, and he swallows the lump in his throat when they catch each other’s eyes for the first time all night. He doesn’t know when things got like this - when they started walking on eggshells around each other and when they couldn’t even ride in the same damn car together, but he thinks maybe it has something to do with the girl whose name he can’t even bring himself to think about. Still, he knows that things aren’t the same between them this time around, and that seems to be the only thing that keeps him from fading back into the darkness Liam has always brought him out of.

“How’s your arm?” Zayn thought suddenly, his voice sounding foreign and quiet as he motions his head to the deep red mark on Liam’s skin. He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken the words out loud until Liam responded, tired and dull and the complete opposite of the voice that Zayn had fallen in love with so long ago.

“Just a scratch.” He shrugs, because he’s never been one to blow things out of proportion. No, that’s always been Zayn’s job. “How’s your hand?”

“Just a scratch.” Zayn mutters in response, because he hadn’t even realized he was bleeding and fuck, it kind of hurts now that the adrenaline has worn off. 

His breath catches in his throat when Liam steps closer, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his bottom lip tucked securely between his teeth. “I’ll take a look at it, yeah?” He says, barely above a whisper until Zayn is backing up, shaking his head and feeling dizzy because he really can’t handle this tonight. He shuffles outside to the balcony, digging through his deep pockets until he finds what he’s looking for; a solution to the incessant aching in his chest that is Liam Payne.

Zayn brings the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling as he lights the tip with ease. He remembers when he actually had to concentrate, when he had to make sure that he was breathing properly and not facing the wind, but now it’s almost second nature to him. It comes as easily as Liam’s arm slipping around his shoulders or their legs pressing up against one another’s in the dimly lit back seat. They used to come easily, at least.

He’s so lost in remembering the simplicity that he doesn’t realize Liam has followed him until he can feel the warmth of his body beside him. “Thought you quit.” He says, though he doesn’t sound angry or malicious. Liam couldn’t sound that way if he tried.

“I didn’t.” Zayn shrugs, flicking his tongue out over his lips to wet them as he recounts a few days ago when he’d told the others he was done smoking for good. That was before Danielle showed up in New York City and caused him to resort to artificial calmness rather than what came so naturally with Liam.

Liam’s lips are pursed, his hands wrapped around the railing of the balcony so hard that his knuckles are turning white. The tension between them is palpable, and Zayn wonders if Liam can feel it too until he speaks again. “Those’ll kill you.” He says it like Zayn doesn’t know. Like they haven’t been having this same mundane conversation since the first time he was caught in the act. He wants to say something like “Thanks, Dad,” but what comes pouring out of him instead is something neither of them expected.

“Hopefully.” He rasps, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and his hands balled into fists on either side of his body.

What happens next is still kind of a blur to him, but suddenly Liam is ripping the cigarette from his lips and tossing it off the balcony, and Zayn wants so badly to scold him for wasting it but somehow, he decides to kiss him instead.

The press of his lips against Liam’s is harsh and maybe he would’ve tried to be gentle if he wasn’t so angry, but he figures it doesn’t matter because Liam isn’t kissing him back. Zayn is desperate and he wants more than anything to feel even the tiniest bit of reciprocation from the other boy, but it never comes. He can still taste the cigarette smoke on his tongue when he pulls away, and he barely hears Liam say “I can’t,” before he’s moving back inside, across the room, and slamming the door as he leaves.

—————

Zayn doesn’t know why he calls Perrie, but he does. He thinks maybe he’s crying a little and that’s why she decides to meet him, but he’s become so numb to feeling lately that he can’t be sure. He knows the press will get a kick out of it - she wasn’t supposed to reappear until the next morning when the “couple” would surprise everyone with flying back to London together, but sneaking out in the middle of the night to see her is probably better for the press. That’s all that anyone cares about, anyway.

She’s just a friend, really. He’s lucky they get on as well as they do and he’s not trapped in a fake relationship with someone he hates, because on nights like tonight he just needs someone to tell him he’s going to be alright. He’s not, and he’s pretty sure Perrie knows that as well as he does by now, but she humors him by saying otherwise.

It’s always the same chorus of “He loves you, he loves you, he loves you,” but Zayn doesn’t believe it. He’s angry again, because how could Liam possibly love him back and still insist upon rejecting him? He can feel himself taking it out on the blonde girl, and it’s just another reason to hate the person he is. Zayn sighs, kissing her forehead and telling her he’s sorry and that he’ll see her in the morning before heading back to the hotel.

—————

His mind plays a cruel trick on him when he enters the room. The lights are off and he thinks maybe Liam will be asleep and he won’t have to talk to him. He knows they can’t ignore each other forever, but he figures that tomorrow he won’t feel like such a fucking fool, and that’s really all he’s asking for.

Liam comes out of the bathroom a few seconds later, and Zayn bites his lip to stifle a groan of frustration. He thinks that maybe tonight is the unluckiest night of his life, and that’s saying something. The other boy clears his throat, and all Zayn can muster is a small “Don’t,” his hand raised in protest so Liam doesn’t continue.

“You didn’t let me finish.” 

Zayn’s eyebrow raises at that, because for the first time in his life, he has no clue what the hell Liam is talking about. He can’t see his expression to read it, and he can’t turn the lights on just for that purpose alone. Basically, he’s screwed. That is, until Liam begins speaking again.

“I just meant.. y’know. We can’t do that out there. Anyone could see us, and it’s all your fault, really, because you couldn’t have just kissed me indoors like any normal person would, could you?” Zayn can tell that Liam is rambling now, knows that his hand is probably resting on the back of his neck and that he’s undoubtedly nervous. A relieved smile reaches his face and his stomach finally has the good kind of butterflies, but that doesn’t stop him from wondering whether or not Liam will kiss him back when he connects their lips a few seconds later.

He does.

—————

The two are tumbling backward toward the bed they were going to share regardless and Liam’s got a God damn smile on his face while Zayn is nipping at his lips and he thinks that maybe tonight wasn’t so unlucky, after all.


End file.
